Sit With Me Tonight
by Ksue
Summary: Payson and Sasha discuss her performance in Rio.


**A/N: So I know its not a new chapter of WYHWT (which I PROMISE I'm working on but life has been absolutely insane the last week or so) but its at least a little P/S goodness to keep you going.**

**AngelWings8 requested this fic from me ages ago, so hopefully its to her liking, but I'd love to hear from everyone else too!**

The air in Rio was thick and hot, even at night when Payson was used to cool, dry, mountain air. It sat over her chest like a wet, wool blanket, pressing down, suffocating her. It set her on edge.

It was worse inside the hotel, where her teammates were celebrating a gold medal win. Everyone told her she should be proud; they had accomplished something amazing, coming out of nowhere to steal the gold from China like that, but Payson wasn't proud. She wasn't proud of her teammates and she certainly wasn't proud of herself. Sure, she'd had her very own Kerri Strugg moment, but her floor routine, the routine that had made her feel connected to gymnastics again, the routine that had saved her during Sasha's time away, the routine she had grown to love so dearly, had failed her. Actually, she had failed it.

She liked to think that Sasha was a little bit to blame for it, even if he had no idea. Whether he knew it or not, he'd been messing with her head since the night in Hungary when he'd shown up outside her hotel room at two in the morning, looking at her _that_ way. And then once they were back to Boulder, he'd hardly spoken two words to her! She didn't understand what she'd done wrong, especially since she had believed that the whole kiss debacle was behind them. It had been messing with her head since the moment he came back. What was even worse? Her feelings for Sasha hadn't gone away, which only complicated matters.

"Payson, are you alright?" Payson shivered a little as his voice reached her ears; soft, warm, accented. She felt him approach her and sit down. "I came by for bed check and the girls said you'd come out here ages ago."

"Is it bed check already?" Payson muttered distractedly, gazing up at the large statue of Christ that watched over the city.

"Do you want to talk about what happened today?" Sasha asked. Payson hung her head and glanced sideways, just enough to see that he was sitting very close to her; barely a whisper could fit between them. She scowled. How could anyone blame her for kissing him, when he acted the way he did?

"Not really, no," she said with a shrug.

"We need to talk about it sometime. The pressure will only get worse from here on out, Payson, the spotlight more demanding," Sasha promised her. She snorted. He was clearly very, very dense. "What?"

"You think that's what today was about? The pressure?"

"Wasn't it? You were so worried about your family, about getting the Healthy Bar deal…"

"That wasn't it. I mean, it was once I realized I might not medal, but that wasn't why my floor routine fell apart," Payson snapped. She felt Sasha jerk at her tone, his whole body stiffening. No other gymnast could get away with talking to him like she did.

"Then what?" His voice was edged with anger and she knew she was at risk of pushing him too far.

"I don't want to talk about it," Payson insisted.

"Payson…" Sasha said, his warning clear.

Payson debated what to tell him. If she told him the truth, the dam inside her would burst and there would be no way to take it back. She wouldn't be able to undo telling him that she loved him and it would hang over them for the rest of her career, tainting their work, distracting her from her one true goal: Olympic gold. But keeping it buried inside was distracting her too; her floor performance was evidence enough of that.

Her internal debate was cut short when he reached for her hand, his rough, calloused fingers closing over hers. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since he'd sat down beside her. There was something there, something barely simmering beneath the surface that lit every one of her nerve endings on fire. It was _the_ look, the one she caught him giving her sometimes, when he wasn't so focused on keeping himself at a distance. The last time he'd look at her that way, that she'd caught him anyway, was in Hungary.

"You can always talk to me, Payson. There is nothing you can say to me that will change the way I see you," Sasha promised. Payson wasn't sure how to interpret that; was he giving her permission to confess her feelings, because he would always see her as just his gymnast? Or something else? She'd used to feel like she could read him so well, like she knew exactly what he was thinking just by looking at him, but she wasn't so sure anymore.

"Can I?" Payson asked, sounding like she didn't quite believe him.

"Of course," he insisted. Payson stared at him through narrowed eyes for a moment. He sat still under her scrutiny, his eyes locked on her, his fingers still tight around her own. Finally she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"It doesn't matter," she said, waving her free hand dismissively. Sasha's hand tugged on hers until she turned to look at him again.

"If it's affecting you this much, it obviously does matter." Payson chewed on her bottom lip, still weighing her options. She didn't miss the way his eyes ticked down to her lips, his tongue flicking out to moisten his. She wondered what he would do if she kissed him now.

"What did I do wrong?" Payson asked, deciding to approach what was happening between them a little differently. She didn't need him to know how she felt, if she could just understand why he'd been so distant.

Confusion flickered across Sasha's features for a brief moment and he frowned, the faint lines around his eyes deepening.

"I think you know what; you didn't have enough height on your tumbling pass, you were emotionally disconnected…"

Payson held up a hand to silence him and his frown deepened. She felt his grip on her hand starting to loosen, but she twisted her fingers through his and held tightly. He wasn't going to pull away from this conversation.

"That's not what I meant," she whispered. "I mean with you, what did I do wrong with you?"

"Payson…"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Sasha," Payson insisted, cutting off his attempt to play dumb.

"What makes you think you did something wrong?" He asked softly, no longer meeting her gaze. Payson squeezed his fingers.

"This, the way you're acting right now. You've been like this since you came back from Romania, Sasha; I can count on one hand the number of times you've interacted with me. Just me," Payson added, knowing he would use every time he'd addressed the team as a whole to refute her point.

For a long moment he just stared at her and she could see the war behind his eyes. She realized then that they were both fighting the same battle, weighing the benefit of confessing their feelings against the potential for catastrophe. She couldn't help but smile softly. At least now she knew it wasn't just her.

"I'm sorry, Payson," he whispered, his eyes dropping away from hers.

A current passed between them, an understanding and Payson knew that neither of them would be voicing their feelings tonight. It wasn't time, she knew. They'd held on for so long, they could hold on until after the Olympics.

"It's fine," she said, trying to be glib. The attempt failed when her voice hitched in her throat. "As long as you stop it right now."

"I promise," he said, smiling slightly. He edged closer, closing the gap between them so that their legs, hips, and arms were pressed together. Payson leaned her head against his shoulder and his hand settled over her knee.

They sat in silence for a few long minutes, soaking each other in, enjoying the closeness for the first time in what felt like forever. Sasha's guard had finally been dropped and it felt like they had gone back in time, back before Payson had kissed him. It was easy.

"Less than a year to the Olympics," Payson offered.

"Less than a year," he echoed. They both knew that this wasn't just small talk; it was the only acknowledgement they would allow themselves. "Is there anything I can do to fix this now?"

"Just sit with me?" Payson asked. She felt Sasha smile against her hair as he pressed a firm kiss to her temple; a promise, an assurance of thoughts and feelings they couldn't yet voice.

"Of course."

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